


those moments.

by spiritedwhere



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, Sad Ending, War, only kinda sad tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritedwhere/pseuds/spiritedwhere
Summary: three times marinette experienced that feeling, and then that one other time.





	those moments.

**Author's Note:**

> happy thanksgiving. also uh im sorry lol.

1.

The first time Marinette experienced that feeling, they had been fighting.

 _No, not fighting_ , Marinette corrected herself. _Dueling_.

“I can see you’ve been practicing,” he says, dodging her sword. He throws her a smile, and then in another second a thrust of his sword, attempting to capture the soft flesh peeking out from her arm guards. Thankfully, she sidesteps in time and leaves him jabbing at air.

“So have you.” Marinette is quick to think, eyes darting every few seconds for the sound of reinforcements to draw closer and her one-on-one attack to end. “I guess the king has been expecting us, has he?”

“You’d be right,” he says, never wavering in any of her attacks.

Small talk is good though, Marinette notes. Small talk keeps some small part of his brain occupied, leaves her able to keep up the battle and find small moments to keep her breath and even smaller moments to plan her next move.

“So, what is this? Our, what, third time fighting?” he asks, waving the sword around for a second as he thinks. “Should we not just head out to the bar if we truly seek each other out that much?”

“Dueling,” she corrects him. “We’re dueling. And we don’t find each other on purpose; where the battle leads I follow.”

“I don’t know about that,” he tells her, laughing. She takes a step back as he draws closer to her, fast paced in his movements. It was easy to tell how skilled he was, years and years of sword work at the hands of his father creating a deadly machine, one that breathed determination and exerted precise moves. “It seems to me like any other solider would not pursue me with as much yearning as you do.”

“But, you and I both know we aren’t just some random soldiers. I happen to know you were handpicked from the king himself to lead this war, following your father’s steps.”

“And I happen to know that you trained yourself how to battle with a sword, and that your king chose you to lead an entire unit for a number of battles.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were quite the fan of me,” Marinette says. She can hear the distant sound of horses and hopes she can continue this fight without any fatal strikes.

“As would I,” Adrien says. He gains one more step on her, quickening his attacks. She counters and tries as hard as she can to keep any cuts or scrapes to a minimum. “Why don’t we find out just how much of a fan we are of each other?”

“You’re quite the charmer, Adrien,” she says, rolling her eyes at his attempt at flirting in the midst of a battle, to the enemy nonetheless. “Are these encounters getting to your head? Have you forgotten our kingdoms are at war with another?”

“Only a little,” he chuckles. “Although, it would be hard not to, especially when I have an opponent who keeps these attacks interesting.”

“Really? So, am I another one of your conquests, then?” she asks, hitting him with more force than she had previously. He falters under her strength, but quickly bounces back, trying to keep up with her attacks.

Adrien chuckles, easily parrying one of her moves. He lands a cut on her cheek, one that draws a grin out of him.

“That would be preferable, but no,” he tells her, unable to stop his mouth from the next sentence. “If I wanted to, I would have beaten you during our first battle and asked you to marry me.”

“Marriage? Don’t make me laugh. We’ve never even talked outside of battle yet,” Marinette huffs, feeling her neck grow warm from the blood pouring down. Her cheek stings, and yet she doesn’t hesitate, continuing her thrusts and steps. “Would it be rude of me to admit I haven’t thought of marriage yet?

“Only a tad,” he says, the two now circling each other. “Although, a union between two talented fighters sounds entertaining, does it not? I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to think after this battle, after I’ve beaten you.”

“And yet…” Marinette finds her chance, and attacks harshly and quickly, disarming him. She hears the sword clatter on the ground but trains her eyes and sword on him, watching the solider freeze. “It seems I’ve won this round, haven’t I?”

“It would seem so,” Adrien says. He laughs, arms slowly raised in a sign of defeat. “I guess that means you’ll be the one asking to marry me instead?”

Marinette smiles, cocking her head to the side, one arm holding the sword and the other one fumbling for the rope she had strapped to her thigh. “Not quite so. I suppose I don’t have to tell you not to resist me?”

“It would be without honor if I did such a thing, my lady.”

“That, and I would stab you right now if you did so.”

“That as well.”

He takes one small step forward and throws both hands together, waiting for the skilled fighter to tie him up. As she does so, hands quickly tying tight knots and making sure he would have little chance to escape, Adrien takes this time to properly look at her. He’s fought her a handful of times, each time both seeming to escape before a fatal swipe and had witnessed a dozen or so paintings hanging in her kingdom’s territory that defined the bravery she held, but never saw Marinette of the Dupain-Cheng family as he did now. Her face was bloodied, different shades of new and old blood painting half of it. The other half was pale and freckled, giving her the appearance of one of the queen’s maidens he had seen throughout the castle in his kingdom. Her armor was protective and did not bend to their society’s typical view of a women’s clothing, merely resembling clothes much like Adrien’s own, only even Adrien did not have as many medals and ribbons decorating the bosom as much as she did.

How astonishing, he noted. A famed fighter, beautiful women, and even more decorated warrior, standing right before him. His destined enemy, and yet at the same time what seemed to him like a perfect match, right before him, securing his hands.

“Come on,” she says, gesturing to behind her, where Adrien could see smoke in the distance. “My troops should be approaching us soon, and I pointedly left your feet untied so you could walk with me back to my campgrounds.”

Marinette watched as he walked in front of her, the sound of her cohort’s horses drawing closer. She whistles, and hears a returning call, one that relaxes her shoulders.

“Look what I caught myself,” she tells Alya as she approaches, gazing at the two from on top of her horse.

“Finally, huh? After so many battles against him, I assumed this would end one of two ways; either a dead body to drag back to the common square, or a public execution to view. I see you’ve chosen the latter.”

Marinette laughs. “Very funny, Alya,” she starts, “but you forgot one other ending.”

“Which is?” she asks, wondering what her friend will give as an explanation for sparing one of the most dangerous swordsmen of their time, and keeping him barely restrained with rope.

“I take him back to our king, I collect his ransom, and then I live my life in peace while he goes off to marry the king’s daughter.” Marinette lists each step off her fingers, excited to finally see the major key part to this plan right next to her.

“I’m marrying a princess?” Adrien interjects, looking at Marinette with a shocked expression. She ignores him, and motions for Alya to turn around and lead the way back, which she obeys.

“Yes, you are. And a very pretty, _very_ rich one at that,” she says, walking past him to catch up with Alya’s speed. “You’ll be more than pleased with that life, and you’ll become a most charming and amazing duke, if our past confrontations give any hint towards your personality.”

“But I don’t wish to marry a princess! What ever happened to marrying _me_ , my lady?”

“Marriage?” Alya asks, raising an eyebrow at Marinette. “I didn’t know you two had grown so close while fighting.”

“I may have entertained that idea while dueling with you, but make sure that I never agreed to it!” Marinette exclaims, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

“I never agreed to _this_! Shouldn’t I be executed, as most soldiers are?”

“Perhaps. But, don’t act like your father was just some simpleton who sent you to fight for wages. Your marriage to the princess will be the game piece that ends the war and brings a time of peace between our warring kingdoms, and a prize for the royal court to fawn over.”

“Not if I have anything to say about that! I demand a rematch between us!”

“Like hell! I’d rather eat a dragon’s tail than remove that rope and hand you a sword!”

“Scared of losing?”

“Tired of having to listen to your complaints for any longer! Stop being stubborn and listen to me! We are going to my camp, heading for the king’s castle, and then you are marrying that princess!”

Alya snorts at the exchange. It’s entertainment for her after a long day of battling enemy soldiers, and more than pleasing to see her best friend socialize with a man, even if it is while exchanging verbal blows at each other.

“Might I suggest you save your energy, Marinette?” she mentions, causing Marinette to stop shouting at the blond. “You do remember it’s a lengthy walk back towards our grounds? Don’t tire yourself out before we even gotten halfway there.”

Marinette sighs, scowling at Adrien. Damn him for getting her all riled up, and damn him even more for refusing to marry a princess. A princess! It was as if he didn’t even want to entertain the idea, much preferring to argue instead.

Adrien looks at her as well, catching her eye. He stares at her for a brief moment, then cracks into a grin. A few seconds later, he’s thrown in a wink her way.

Marinette turns her head swiftly, flustered at the action. He lets out a laugh, clearly entertained. She steps faster, trying to ignore his antics and calm the beating of her heart to no avail.

It was that first time, Marinette remembers, that she had felt something in her.

2.

The second time Marinette had experienced that feeling, they had been sleeping. Or attempting to, at least.

“We’ll head for the castle in the morning,” Alya says, looking up from her bowl. They had reached the campgrounds just hours earlier, and were sitting in Marinette’s tent, eating from the meal prepared that night. “You know how long the journey is, Marinette. I suggest you sleep now and wake early.”

Marinette nods in agreement, before casting a look at Adrien. Now free from his bonds, he was eating alongside them, but had been warned several times since they arrived that if he attempted any escapes, he would be subjected to the most torturous death Marinette could think of.

“Tell the rest the same, and make sure they are all prepared by the time I decide to leave. If someone is not ready, let them know we will be leaving them to come home on their own, without any protections to keep them safe from the dangers of the wild.”

Alya nods, standing up and brushing off her clothes.

“Also,” Marinette says, “thank you for your actions today. I will make sure to let the king know of your bravery when I meet him again.”

Alya smiles. She makes her way out of the tent, voice able to be heard outside and calling for all of the soldiers.

“Where will I sleep?” Adrien asks suddenly, over the noises of Alya’s commands. A true right-hand woman, she followed all of Marinette’s orders with the loyalty of a thousand soldiers.

“In here.” Marinette shovels own more food. “I will not allow for any chance of escape.”

“Seems unprofessional, if I might say. What will the others think?”

“They will think of me as someone willing to risk getting her throat cut as she sleeps.”

Adrien scoffs. “Do not think of me as someone that low. I would never kill an enemy without honor, and certainly not one with whom I’ve already asked to marry me.”

“Give it a rest already,” she says. “You’ll be marrying the king’s daughter, as we already discussed.”

She sets her bowl down and walks to the tent’s entrance. Slinging down the tent flap, she strings it shut and looks back at him.

“You will sleep here,” she tells him, pointing to a cot. Pointing to the cot next to it, she continues. “I will sleep there to make sure you do not escape. Do not, and I repeat, _do not_ , attempt to kill me, or I will not hesitate to cut your throat out and leave you alive for weeks afterward. Sound alright?”

Adrien nods, unable to say anything in an act of protest. Although, he finds it hard to stay anything when she stands over him, strong and sure as she speaks. She talks with the authority of someone who’s lead a thousand battles, who could direct a dragon to follow and obey all she says.

If he hadn’t been threatened with death at her hands several times, he would almost admit to himself that it was attractive.

It wasn’t hard sleeping, Marinette finds out that night, laying on the cot and staring at the ceiling. Sleeping was always easy for her to do, especially after long days of training and fighting. Really, the true disturbance was Adrien, right next to her. She can’t help her eyes from darting to the side, eventually shifting her body to look at the fighter next to her.

He’s resting, curled up like a baby on the cot and resting his head on his arms. Breathing softly, Marinette sees a rosiness on his cheeks, making him look more and more like the high-class citizen he was raised as. He almost doesn’t look like a deadly killer, but rather someone needing protection.

In fact, he doesn’t look like a deadly killer so much that Marinette almost doesn’t spot the knife curled up in his hand, rising up to her throat.

She grabs his arm quickly, stopping it before the knife plunges itself into her neck. She stares at him, Adrien gazing at her.

“I thought you were asleep,” he lets out, Marinette taking the knife away with her free hand and tossing it to the other side of the cot.

“You thought wrong,” she says. Letting go of his arm, she watches as he brings his arm back to his side.

“Well, yeah. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would’ve been on a horse, headed for my kingdom with half a dozen of valuable items.” Adrien sits up on the cot, crossing his arms together.

“I thought you had honor, huh? Didn’t you say you would never dare such a thing?” she asks mockingly. Marinette sits up as well and pushes herself off of the cot. Walking over to the small fire keeping the room warm, she adds an extra log and warms her hands, looking back at Adrien.

Adrien gets up as well, walking over to the fire. He stands across from Marinette and gazes at her, watching the young woman.

“It was worth a try,” he says.

“Was it really?” Marinette looks up at him and scoffs. “You were threatened with being tortured and still went through with it?”

“I don’t see you cutting my throat right now, though.”

“That’s because I’m not a fucking crazed person. I merely thought it’d scare you into submission. Instead, I have to keep watch over you all night.”

Adrien sighs, running a hand over his face.

“I promise I won’t try anything again,” he says. “Don’t lose out on sleep just because I pulled a knife on you.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to be soothed by it.”

“Well, all my past lovers have been.”

“You’ve pulled knives on your lovers before?”

“It’s a war.” Adrien shrugged. “Sometimes those you’ve laid with carry ulterior motives.”

“Spare me the details,” Marinette says, raising a hand to stop him. She feels her cheeks grow warm and turns her face away from his gaze.

“What? You’ve never had to do the same?”

Marinette laughs, forcing herself to look at the blond. “This might come as a shock to such a talented and charming man as yourself, but I don’t engage in relationships. I prefer to focus on my training. What matters most is saving the kingdom, right?”

“You sound like my father,” Adrien says, sighing. “He always pushed that same idea onto me, right up until I was taken under for the king’s army.”

“And then?”

“He died and left me his estate, leaving me to take care of myself and use his money as I saw fit.” Adrien walks away from the fire, towards the tent’s entrance. “I wouldn’t say I found lovers purely to spite him. Maybe it was merely to fill something I hadn’t realized before.”

Marinette makes her way over to follow him, standing only a few feet away.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, raising a hand to hover on his shoulder. She pulls away after a second and forces herself to stand up straighter, remind herself that this was one of enemies, a born killer and deadly fighter.

“Wouldn’t anyone be?” Adrien turns to look at her, the distance between them looking smaller than before. The moonlight filtering in through the tent’s entrance bathes him, the soft bits of light dancing off of his eyelashes, bringing a glow to his skin, adds a certain shine to his teeth as he smiles. Marinette blinks, guard suddenly dropped for the first time in months, maybe years.

For the second time, she experiences that feeling, that weird buzz in her body. She takes a step back, unsure of what to say.

“We should go back to sleep,” she blurts out. Adrien blinks, the soft moment ruined between them.

“Weren’t you just now saying I might kill you as you slept?”

“That’s fine.” Marinette turns back to the cots, walking over quickly to them. Picking up the knife, she tucks it into her waistband and crawls onto one of the cots. Curling up, she slings on the thin fabric making up the blanket over her body.

“Goodnight,” she tells him. “If you attempt to kill me again, this time make it count.”

She forces her eyes shut and tries desperately to still the beating of her heart. It doesn’t work, her heart racing faster than a hundred horses.

3.

The third time Marinette had experienced that feeling, they had been arguing, not for the first time.

“You really think I’m going to marry her? You’re insane!”

“ _You’re_ the insane one over here! What, you just assume you can marry me as an alternative?”

“Yes!” Adrien slings an arm over his eyes, laying down on the bed. He’s refusing to look at Marinette, preferring to block out the beautiful fighter in favor of darkness instead. They’re in his quarters, a room picked out by the king himself and guarded by two knights (as if Marinette wasn’t enough of a guard). After traveling for weeks on end, they had finally reached the kingdom, and Marinette had dragged Adrien off to the castle.

Getting him there had been easy. Forcing him to accept his marriage to Princess Chloé however, posed a real challenge.

“Come on, Adrien. I promise, she’s not _all_ bad.” Marinette leans on the wall, crossing her arms and looking at this poor excuse for a princess’ fiancé. “You’re basing a whole marriage off of just one meeting.”

He doesn’t say anything in response. Marinette sighs, moving off of the wall and making her way to the bed. She sits on the corner of it, watching the blond exhale every few seconds.

“You’re being dramatic, and a fool if you think you have any choice in this matter. I could cut your throat out and parade you around the kingdom if I wanted to, but instead, I’m giving you the opportunity to have an easy way out. Why not take it up?”

“Because I want to marry for love. And as lovely as the princess is, she won’t give me that.”

“You’ve told me before, plenty of times even, of all the women you’ve dated. What makes this different?”

“This is different. Dating gave no sure promise towards that, but now… it’s without my choice.”

“And what? Marrying me will give you some happiness the princess can’t?”

He turns his head suddenly, looking at Marinette.

“Yes,” he says, eyes trained on her. Marinette stiffens, sitting up straighter and feeling her cheeks grow warm. Her heart starts beating up again, the same way it had been during their long and lengthy journey back. She’s been trying to tune it out and ignore _the feeling_ but fails every time.

“You don’t mean that,” she lets out, casting her eyes away from him. “You barely know me any better than you know the princess.”

“At least I know some things about you! I’ve fought you plenty of times!” He suddenly sits up, pointing a finger at her cheek, the cut treated but still stinging on her face as she feels his touch. “I left that on you!”

She bats his hand away.

“Don’t remind me,” she says. “Or better yet, please do. I’ll be able to remind everyone I see that the last remaining piece of the Agreste legacy fell at my hand.”

“Then I won’t.” Adrien slouches, gazing down at his hands.

“I promise she’s not that bad,” Marinette says again, trying to cheer him up. “I had to guard for her a handful of times. She’s pushy, of course, but truly she cares deeply for those she loves.”

“And those people are?”

“Herself, mostly.” Marinette lets out a laugh as she sees Adrien huff once more.

“Well, that certainly makes me feel better.”

“Listen, I know this isn’t what you want. But, it’s much better than dying! And, the king is already drafting a treaty to end the war, should the wedding go as planned. You know as well as I do a marriage between two citizens from warring kingdoms gives way to peace.”

“Of course I do. I’ve read the laws  and declarations dozens of times, seeing possible solutions for the war. I just did not expect for this to occur.”

Marinette gets up from the bed, making her way to the door. She stands with her hand on the doorknob, ready to twist it. Adrien is unmoving from the bed, as still as a statue.

“Would you truly marry me, if I suddenly agreed to it?” she asks him, back facing him and eyes trained on the wood before her.

He doesn’t hesitate once he hears the words.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve told you over and over I would gladly take you as my wife.”

“Even now?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” she asks, feeling her touch on the knob growing weaker with every passing second. “Is it just for my fighting abilities?”

“Not at all.” Adrien straightens on the bed, looking at Marinette. She’s yet to turn back to him, but he can see her body relax as he continues. “I may have said that before, and it was a factor at first, but I see much more now. You have much more than just a fighter’s spirit that captivates me now.”

Marinette cannot fight the smile brewing on her face. She blinks harshly to put all thoughts at rest, and forces herself to clench onto the knob harder.

“Thank you,” she says, before pushing the door open and rushing out. She walks away from the room and hears the door slam shut behind her, feeling the metal adorning her clothes clang with every step. Wearing armored clothing, she had never felt so vulnerable and exposed before. It was as if she had left the most important part of her body unprotected, and he had struck right there with one fatal strike.

Turning the hallway, she places a hand over her heart, leaning against the wall and exhaling.

It’s deadly, she realizes, how attraction finds its target without judgement, executing without mercy.

1.

There was that one moment, Marinette remembers, that showed how cruel the world could be.

The king had been droning on for quite some time during the wedding ceremony, long enough that Alya had fled from their table with one of the musicians halfway through and had yet to return. Marinette twirled her finger over the glass before her, the amber liquid inside untouched. For once, she was dressed for the occasion, the armor she typically strolled the kingdom and battlefield in exchanged for an elegant gown handpicked by the king himself. Her hair done up, she yearned to scratch her head, the pins uncomfortable on her scalp.

“Don’t touch it,” Juleka says, practically reading her mind. A seasoned warrior herself, she looked as uncomfortable as Marinette in the dress, but sat straight and focused, eyes on the king. Marinette looked over as well, eyes not on the king, but who was next to him.

Adrien was in a fine and traditional wedding garment that hadn’t stopped itching since he put it on. His face was without emotion, eyes dull as he mindlessly gazed off. On the other side of the king lay his wife, who looked as disinterested in her father’s speech as she usually did with everyone else. It had been a handful of months in their kingdom, with discussions shifting from the treaty between each kingdom to which flowers should decorate the banquet hall. All trickled down to today, where he had to face the one thing he had tried so hard to ignore.

Marinette felt her mouth turn upwards at the sight of him, the months he had resided in her kingdom doing little to curb her reactions every time she laid eyes upon him. He looked amazing, as every bit of royalty as those seated next to him. Her eyes welled with tears, and she moved one hand upwards to cup her cheek, which bore a small scar from their fateful duel. 

It was a special kind of torture. A drawn out, totally life ruining kind that made her heart ache and her mind blur. She would never wish this kind of pain onto anyone, nor wish for it to ever occur to her again.

And still, the pain continued on, burning and leaving an invisible scar no one could see. No one would ever know of the pain she felt, the complete hopelessness she failed to fight off.

The kingdom’s most powerful fighter, and the weakest lover.

Suddenly, everyone is applauding. She blinks, and moves her hands together, mindlessly clapping along. A song starts up, Alya returns to the table with a grin on her face and a mark on her neck, and everyone starts up a conversation. Her eyes dart around the room and stop because Adrien’s looking at her and this is the first time he’s looked at her in weeks, and all of a sudden the world stops.

He looks at her with that look she can’t figure out, one that she’s seen over and over and more frequently as time passes in her kingdom. The same look he’s thrown at her when the pass each other in hallways at the castle, when she’s forced to join talks between the kingdoms and pulled into rehearsals for the wedding because she’s helped bring peace to the country and a husband to the princess and surely that shouldn’t be forgotten. She stares at him as long as she can, until her vision turns blurry and she has to force herself to turn away.

It’s also another look she’s seen, one that makes Marinette stand up and make her way out of the banquet hall. It’s one she saw in hidden hallways, in empty gardens and abandoned training grounds. A look she saw after a kiss, after a whisper of forbidden words, after the sun’s begun to climb up from a night of memories.

It’s a look he’s only saved for her.

She’s almost reached the exit when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Instinct tells her to swing, but etiquette forces Marinette to merely stiffen and turn. She shocked to silence when she sees it’s him, slightly out of breath and looking at her.

Marinette feels her eyes water again, a small trickle of warmth going down her cheek.

“Before you go, might I ask for a dance?” he asks, giving her that same smile he tossed her dozens of times in battle, right before he attempted a kill.

“Shouldn’t you dance with your wife?” she responds.

“She’s busy with other things,” Adrien says. He nudges his head towards the table, where Chloé’s missing from, along with the king. “She has more people to boss around, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” Marinette smiles, blinking. More tears fall from her face as she takes Adrien’s hand, stepping onto the dance floor. “Although, I’m sure she’s not all bad.”

“Whoever told you that is a liar,” Adrien says. He leads her onto the floor, the crowds parting and allowing the two to take the center. He leads her into a waltz, each step between the two a reminder it might very well be their last.

“You’ve grown into quite the royal,” Marinette comments, struggling to keep up with his graceful steps. “I guess I was right all along.”

“That you were.” Adrien twirls her around, before bringing a hand up to her cheek. He softly brushes away the tears on her cheek, letting his fingers rest on the scar he gave her, many months before. They stop dancing, still on the dance floor and letting the world pass by them, leaving the two to talk.

“You’re crying.”

“So you’ve noticed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Marinette gives him a smile, a weak attempt at soothing him. “Weddings always make me cry.”

Adrien sighs. He runs a hand over his hair, ruining the hours spent brushing it back for the wedding.

“If only you had accepted my proposal…” he says, drifting off. Adrien lets out a broken chuckle and turns his gaze away, unable to look at her without thinking of _what if_.

“You know it would have never gone as planned.”

“But would you have said yes?”

“You know I would’ve.” Marinette sighs, feeling the pain in her heart grow. She reaches out to grasp his hands but stops once she realizes several of the royal court have stopped their conversations to gaze at the two, murmurs rising. Forcing them to return to their respective spots on her side, she clears her throat.

“I should go,” she says. She gazes around the banquet hall and sees the smiling faces, rejoicing for the marriage and end of the war that had haunted the lands for years. Marinette sees the glitz and glamour of the guests, and knows it’s not a place for her, not now or ever. She glances at Adrien one last time, and brushes past him to make her way out of the hall, not pausing for anything he has to say.

She had been stabbed, almost murdered, and faced more dangers in one evening than most people would engage in their lifetime, but never felt so hurt. Never before had Marinette faced a pain this strong, so present and unmoving. Never before had she wiped her tears and continued to walk away from a comfort she would never have again, from a happiness one would only reach once in their lifetime.

For once, she had a feeling unlike any other. Heartbreak.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr- mari-cheres
> 
> twitter- inuyashas_  
> 


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